Lifeline
by cartographer
Summary: "I thought I was past this," she says, so quiet, but it's achingly loud in her helmet, in the vastness of space that spreads before her outside the docking tube.


The mag-locks in her boots are huge and heavy; they drag on her thighs with every step. A low, warning ache is forming already. She doesn't want to think about how she'll feel later. She can hear them, too, reverberating through her armor. It's a relentless _whump-whump-whump_ that does nothing to distract her from the _hiss_ of her suit's life support.

She knows her breathing's fucked up, harsh and greedy, but she can't stop herself. She can't convince herself that there's enough air, that she'll be _fine_. She knows too that it's audible to anyone who cares to listen to the open channel between her and the Normandy – EDI's already there, and Joker and Tali – Hell, half of the Admiralty council might be listening to her freak out on open radio.

She doesn't want to cut that most fragile of threads to the light. Her whole life is back there, behind her on the _Normandy_ , and if she closes the channel –

Her most primitive, irrational lizard brain revolts at the idea. Her breath seizes in her chest. If she dies out here, all alone, no one will bring her back this time.

Her steps falter, nearly missing the next strut.

" _Shepard_ ," Garrus says over the line from the _Normandy_. It's piped directly into her ear canals via her military-grade implants, and so clear is the signal that it feels immediate, like he's really there.

She somehow finds another breath, and the will to keep going. She makes absolutely sure that the mag-lock's engaged on one foot before lifting the next. After a long, long moment that feels like eternity, she answers him. "I'm here."

" _It's just me. The quarians decided they didn't need to be here. Tali's taking them on a tour of the drive core."_

Shepard thinks about that in the space between movements, between listening for the mag-lock whine and the scream building in her thighs. It's suspicious that the admirals chose exactly that moment to vacate the control room. But if Garrus did something, and she's sure that he did, she doesn't care. It's enough that he's the only one hearing her... like this.

"I thought I was past this," she says, so quiet, but it's achingly loud in her helmet, in the vastness of space that spreads before her outside the docking tube. "I can't afford..." The thought trails away when her throat swells again, cutting off her words. Her blood is up and the adrenaline's pumping, but it doesn't feel like it usually does. She feels sick, and clammy with sweat.

" _One foot in front of the other, Shepard."_ He's a little louder now. She can imagine Garrus bending over the comm console, like getting closer to it means being closer to her.

It helps.

"I know," she says. That's all it is. One foot in front of the other.

Except when one step is all it takes to fall into the infinity of space. Then it's sideways. Shepard laughs a little under her breath, even though it isn't funny, and in reply Garrus' voice rises in a wordless, encouraging hum. She's never heard him do that before. His voice is deep and deeper, the tones forming alien melodies and strange harmonies that shouldn't be comforting.

She stops for a second, just to listen.

When she takes another step, she forces herself to breathe. One step, and then another, and a breath. Her mag-locks engage every time. She walks up the side of the tube and then across a gap, balancing precariously on the strut that bridges it, and when she notices how deep and far she could fall, she holds onto Garrus in her ear, on the other side of the comms, and forces herself to pick her foot up.

She can do this. She _can_.

She's so close to the airlock, so close she can taste it, and then suddenly the docking tube breaks away from the ship while one of her boots is still locked to it. Instantly she triggers the emergency disengage on her right boot; it works, but it leaves her teetering on the edge of the ship, windmilling her arms like _that_ 's going to do anything. Her conscious mind knows that her left boot is locked and safe and she's _fine_ but the rest of her is panicking. If she falls, no one will ever find her.

She can't die in space again she can't she just _can't_ no no _please_

" _Shepard!_ "

Her right boot attaches, the mag-lock clicking into place with a _thunk,_ anti-climactic compared to the surge of relief that pours through her. She crouches to bring herself closer to the safety and stability of the airlock. She _breathes_.

"I'm okay," she says. She's not standing up just yet, but she can do this. Thank god for the plumbing connections. She's going to need the entirety of the _Normandy_ 's shower allotment to feel clean again later, but she can do this.

" _What the hell just happened?_ "

"The docking tube broke away." She glances over her shoulder, at the vast enormity of empty space and the cold, silent stars, and then turns back. "Looks like the rest of the team isn't using it."

" _Let me patch the others back in_."

"Okay." She takes one more deep, shuddering breath and then stands. Nothing terrible happens, but a thought comes to her. "Hey, Garrus?" She hopes she caught him before he looped the others back into her comms.

" _Yeah, Shepard?_ "

She smiles, knowing he'll hear it in her voice, even if he can't see it. "Thanks."

His voice, already rich and deep, goes richer with affection. " _Anytime, Shepard._ "


End file.
